


Wherever You Go

by tessellateheart



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Angsty Derek, Derek POV, Fluff and Angst, It's not really a coffeeshop au, M/M, Romance, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-27
Updated: 2012-11-27
Packaged: 2017-11-19 16:46:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/575437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tessellateheart/pseuds/tessellateheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek has always found himself content just being in the same city, close enough to hear Stiles' heartbeat and know he's safe, but things change the day that Stiles stumbles into the werewolf's coffee shop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wherever You Go

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is loosely inspired by the movie Waiting For Forever.
> 
> Many thanks to my beta reader Hikaru (adolescentlycanthrope).
> 
> I'm still very new to writing fics so reviews are very much welcomed!

Derek wasn't exactly sure when it had started, when he had first felt compelled to look after that bumbling idiot of a boy, that boy who never seemed to be able to keep himself out of trouble. When they had been younger Derek had felt content in just knowing that they lived in the same town and that they attended the same elementary school. He would see the hyperactive boy in passing before and after school, sometimes running into him around town if he was lucky. The young version had been even more hyperactive than the grown-up version, never focusing on one thing for more than a moment, which lead to him never really noticing the morose young werewolf constantly shooting looks his way and often times even glaring menacingly at him. It seemed that Derek Hale would forever go unnoticed by the high-strung boy.

There had been one occasion when they happened to be at the playground together. Okay, maybe Derek had followed the younger boys scent there, but as luck would have it, he was quite fortunate that he had. The pale skin boy had slipped at the very top of the jungle gym on a patch of ice near the slide, and had Derek not been there to grab him up by the hood of his jacket, the small boy would have more than likely ended up with a few broken bones, if not a broken neck. It had been the only time they had ever spoken, the younger boy letting out a shaky "thanks," cheeks flushed and a look of amazement plastered across his face, before Derek had let him go and fled away to the confines of the nearby forest. When Derek had finally stopped, safely miles away from the park, he still couldn't stop his hands from shaking or ignore the way his heart was beating wildly in his chest.

It wasn't until the boy's mother died that Derek finally learned his name, or at least what everyone seemed to call him. At the funeral Derek had stood away from it all, at the edge of the graveyard where no one would notice a barely teenage boy all alone. As the minister droned on, Derek's eyes were glued to the small boy, to Stiles, who was clinging helplessly to his father's hand. Tears were freely flowing down his frail face, mixing with snot running from his nose, a mixture that he made no move to wipe away. Derek couldn't really explain it, but seeing Stiles with his heart breaking, it affected him, made him feel as though his heart was breaking right there along with the small boy. It was as though whatever Stiles felt, Derek couldn't help but feel as well, like there was some unseen thread joining the two of them. That night he'd followed the boy and his father home, falling asleep in the line of trees along their backyard to the sound of Stiles constantly sniffling. It took everything in the older boy to not climb through Stiles' window and comfort him. The only thing stopping him was the fact that Stiles was probably already traumatized with the loss of his mother and some random stranger crawling through his window wouldn't help at all.

It wasn't until a few months later, when Stiles and his father had moved away to Chicago to live with some family and Derek had felt the most excruciating physical pain he'd ever experienced in his life, that his family had explained to him the concept of having a mate. He was only fourteen at the time, which according to them was incredibly young to have already found someone, but Derek was certain of the feelings. It wasn't even romantic, especially at that age, but rather just this strange longing to be close to the boy, to constantly make sure that he was okay. When the Stilinski's moved away after the mother's death, Derek couldn't even function for the first week, his body overcome with a crushing feeling unlike anything the boy had ever felt before. With time it decreased to more of a dull ache, something Derek could have gotten used to. The thing he couldn't quite shake off though was the feeling of constantly being pulled away from where he was. The sensation was strange, a sort of feeling all the way down in his bones, that he was just going to be uprooted and taken across the country.

Derek lived with the feeling for two years before things finally became too much for the then sixteen year old. With the company of his older sister Laura, Derek traveled to the city where he was certain Stiles had left for years before. The closer he got to Chicago, the less and less Derek felt as though he was being pulled, and for the first time since the Stilinski boy had left he felt almost at ease. Leaving Beacon Hills had been hard, terrible even, since it meant that Derek was leaving his pack, his family, but as the knot in his stomach, the one he'd carried around ever since Stiles left, began to loosen more and more Derek couldn't deny the fact that he was headed the right way.

Things were easy in Chicago, and Derek was content to merely be within the same city confines as Stiles. For the first few years they never ran into each other, never had any encounters, much to Laura's dismay. She was constantly pushing her younger brother to "run into" Stiles in some public place and strike up a conversation, to get the ball rolling before things were too late and the other boy actually found someone else. It wouldn't be his fault of course, seeing as he was completely unaware of Derek Hale's existence, apart from the brief moment they had spent together on the playground. It wasn't Derek's style though, or at least that was always his excuse to Laura. Deep down though he was really just terrified that if he and Stiles ever did meet that the boy would be completely disinterested in him in every way and Derek would have to live the rest of his life knowing he'd never have his mate. No, it was better for him to live with the small hope that perhaps one day something might happen by chance no matter how much the wolf inside him whined every time he caught sight of Stiles on the street.

"And what would you say if Stiles finally noticed you watching him one day?" Laura questioned one day well into their time in Chicago.

Derek dropped the book he was reading to his lap and turned toward his sister with a hardened gaze, as though he hadn't answered the question millions of times before. Yet for someone reason Derek felt compelled to really answer for the first time. "I would tell him that in a city of almost three million people, his heartbeat is the only one I care to listen to, that when I pick up his scent it's not just one sense that I feel, it's all five of them at once like he's somehow seeped under my skin and nestled into my bones. Out of every human I've come across in eighteen years he's the only one that has ever perked my interest, that has stirred up the wolf inside of me in a positive way. I'd tell him that I'd follow him across the world if it meant there'd be just the slight chance I would see him, that I could live the rest of my life simply content knowing he's nearby."

The words seemed the simply tumble out of his mouth as soon as Derek opened it, for once in his life actually showing emotion in front of his sister, or anyone for the matter. The look on Laura's face said it all though. If there had ever been any hesitation in staying with Derek, in fueling his desire to be with a boy he'd never even had the nerve to approach, those feelings were quickly washed away. It wasn't often that she could get more than a few jumbled sentences out of Derek without a fight, and a winded description of why he loved Stiles Stilinski was like the ultimate miracle coming from him.

It wasn't until Stiles junior year of high school, six years into living in Chicago, that Derek finally had the nerve to approach him. The boy's jeep had broken down for what seemed like the millionth time, and he'd decided to walk to school in lieu of taking the bus. It was a cool fall day, and Derek made sure to stay a good deal behind the other boy, although it didn't particularly matter since Stiles seemed pretty wrapped up in whatever music was blaring through his headphones. It was because of that music that Stiles didn't seem to notice the city bus barreling down the street when he decided to step into the crosswalk. Within seconds Derek was behind him, yanking the boy back by the hood of his jacket, much like the older man had done when they were just children on the playground. As Stiles turned around to thank his savior, he was surprised to find no one standing behind him, only a large figure in a leather jacket briskly walking the other way. Had he not been running late for school, the younger boy would have chased him down, instead- he merely shrugged and glanced both ways before hurrying across the road.

At the end of Stiles' high school education, Derek found himself in the crowd at the graduation ceremony, an overwhelming sense of pride welling through him, and when Stiles left to attend Cornell that fall, it was a no brainer that Derek followed him to New York. Laura had moved back home to Beacon Hills years before, making it simple for Derek to completely uproot his life once again. He settled into a small apartment right on the outskirts of campus, taking up a position as a barista in a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop under the assumption that he'd go unnoticed by Stiles there. The ache of being separated from his mate had become something that Derek was used to, and he found himself growing more and more okay with his fate every day. It was enough for him to simply be close enough to the other male that he would occasionally catch a whiff of his scent or hear a snippet of his voice. Just being close enough to ensure that no real bodily harm could ever become Stiles left Derek satisfied, no matter how much his inner wolf whined to be so much closer.

As fate would have it, on a rather dreary day in the middle of October during Stiles' sophomore year at university, the younger boy stumbled into a small coffee shop in an attempt to get out of a downpour that had begun out of nowhere. As fate would also have it, Derek had picked up an extra shift that day due to one of his co-workers being sick. He stiffened at the familiar scent as soon as the door opened, not having been faced with it at that close of a proximity in years. There was Stiles, dressed entirely too light for the chilly weather, hunkered down into a ragged armchair and wrapping his arms around himself to try and stop the shaking. A mug was placed in front of him almost instantly, filled with steaming hot cocoa. He looked up from his spot, surprised to find the brooding werewolf standing over him, a leather jacket clutched in his hands that he was holding out to Stiles expectantly. Even later in life Derek wouldn't be able to explain his impulsive actions after years of fearing approaching Stiles unless it was absolutely necessary. His only answer was that his wolf side had finally gotten the better of him, not wanting to see his mate in any sort of pain or discomfort, and the sight of the pale boy soaking wet and shivering had certainly been a pitiful one.

Whereas most people might have been taken aback by a barista bringing them drinks without an order and offering up their jacket, Stiles was immediately taken by the man, never having much luck with people being overly friendly to him before in his life. He'd always been that awkward, gangly kid with his foot in his mouth. High school had been hell for him and even though college was better in terms of less bullies, Stiles had found himself easily fading into the background and being completely ignored. It wasn't every day that someone was outright considerate toward him. He'd accepted the free drink and jacket graciously, and began talking a mile a minute about the "weather from hell." Derek was complacent to merely stand there and nod or shrug whenever required, which seemed to suit Stiles well enough. The boy had enough words to account for the both of them. It was with great disdain that Derek finally had to step away and help another customer that had walked through the door. When he was finally able to glance back Stiles' way the boy was gone and there on the table next to an empty mug was Derek's jacket, as well as a twenty dollar tip. Part of Derek wanted to run out into the rain and chase after Stiles, knowing how easily he could find him and how unlikely it was that their paths would cross again, but the wave of courage he'd felt earlier had quickly subsided, leaving him with his ever present fear of rejection.

Despite any reservations Derek may have harbored toward meeting Stiles, things took a surprising turn when Derek was leaving work that night and reached into his jacket pocket only to pull out a crumpled napkin with a sloppy phone number scrawled on it. Derek couldn't help but smile to himself as he quickly memorized the numbers by heart and gently folded the napkin and slipped it back inside his jacket pocket. Needless to say, Derek left his jacket unwashed for a while after that, basking in the lingering scent of his mate.

It took the man over a week to finally get up the nerve to call up Stiles, but when he finally did the two of them agreed to hang out that weekend. It wasn't a date, and for as much as Derek knew Stiles could be completely heterosexual. For as long as he'd followed the other male around, Derek had never once picked up on any hint of Stiles dating. On one hand it had been great for Derek, never having to watch Stiles share a romantic bond with anyone else, but it had also left him constantly questioning whether or not he would ever have a chance.

It was slightly awkward at first, with Stiles rambling on and Derek resigned to his normal grunts of agreement when necessary. How someone could sit there and ramble through an entire action movie was completely beyond Derek, but he wouldn't deny to himself the fact that he loved the sound of Stiles voice, especially now that it was finally, after years and years, directed at him. The man had finally found the courage to do what he had always yearned to, and all fears of being completely rejected were thrown to the wind when Derek realized just how eager Stiles was to have someone to talk to.

After that first time, things settled into an easy friendship, the two of them spending most afternoons and evenings together. It, for the most part, consisted of video games and horror movie marathons and anything else that Stiles insisted upon, Derek simply content to finally have something more than watching from afar. There was never anything more between them though, despite how much Derek wished he could admit his feelings to Stiles. There were nights when Stiles would drink one too many beers and crash in Derek's bed, the unconscious male always ending up sprawled across Derek, who could never bring himself to actually fall asleep, but nothing more ever came of it. There was no subtext below them sharing a bed, no cuddling on the sofa when they watched movies, essentially there was no reason for Derek to believe that Stiles had anything more than platonic interest in him.

When Derek finally let Stiles in on the fact that he was a little more supernatural than he appeared to be, the boy nearly gave himself a heart attack.

"Wait, wait. You mean to tell me that the reason you're always "busy" every time a full moon rolls around is because you're out turning into a wolf?! And you didn't think that maybe your best buddy Stiles might want in on all the werewolf fun?" The boy had questioned, giving Derek one of the most pitiful pouts he'd ever seen in his life. It was a bit of a relief though, having Stiles react so well, which he somewhat attributed to the fact that Stiles claimed to have been suspicious for a while. It wouldn't have been that hard for someone to deduce, especially someone already pretty interested in anything strange and unusual. The two of them spent almost every day together, and yet once a month Derek claimed to be busy and drove off to god knows where; werewolf had definitely been at the top of Stiles' suspected causes list.

That night Derek was inevitably kept up much later than normal, answering question after question about himself, all of which he tried to answer without sounding too annoyed. It was one of the first times that Stiles had ever let Derek do the most talking, and the older man wasn't exactly used to talking so much, especially about himself. The topic of mates never came up though- and, in true Derek fashion, the man chose to leave out that little bit of his life.

When Stiles turned twenty-one at the beginning of his junior year, the hyperactive boy, now officially a man, forced Derek out to the bars with him. He made the werewolf take shot after shot with him, even though the alcohol had absolutely no effect on the older man. Stiles, however, was a completely different case. After about three shots the boy was practically floored, and after the sixth shot he was a complete disaster. He still babbled on like normal but the vast majority of his words were slurred together or entirely incomprehensible, but he kept leaving his mouth hanging open in that way that Derek found infuriatingly tempting so he couldn't complain too much. He'd half expected Stiles to stumble onto the dance floor, latching onto a random girl, or guy, and leave him stranded at the bar. It seemed to be a pretty common thing for drunken college students to do, after all, but Stiles surprised Derek even then. Instead of wandering off, Stiles sat there at the bar, eyes locked on Derek the entire time until he practically looked like he was incapable of maintaining a seated position and the older man finally forced him to leave.

After leaving the bar it took Derek almost an hour to get them back to his apartment, even though the walk should have taken closer to fifteen minutes. It began with Stiles' arm draped over his shoulder and Derek's arm protectively on the other man's lower back, but after two blocks of Stiles constantly stumbling, Derek had eventually just scooped his friend up easily, slinging him over one shoulder and carrying him the rest of the way. The birthday boy sloppily pounded against his back for a while slurring something that sounded strangely like "I am a lady and I demand you put me down this instant," which Derek simply rolled his eyes at, knowing that Stiles would get bored of protesting quickly enough.

It was easy enough to get Stiles into bed, slipping off his shoes and jacket and tucking him under the covers before Derek slipped into bed himself. What wasn't easy was getting the drunken boy to go to sleep. While most people at that level of intoxication would have simply passed out, Stiles instead rambled on and on, letting out every thought that came to his mind no matter how embarrassing, and when he finally ran out of things to say, he made ridiculous noises for at least half an hour before eventually turning toward Derek and giving him a terribly confused look.

"You've really got to stop doing this to me Der," Stiles stated, words only slightly slurred at that point. Derek opened his mouth to question the younger man on what exactly it was he was doing wrong but he was stopped short when his ears picked up how fast Stiles heart was beating. Was Derek going crazy or was his drunken counterpart leaning in closer, and why were his eyes starting to shut? Before Derek really even registered what was happening, Stiles had pressed his lips against his, the smell of beer and tequila overloading his senses. That first kiss was sloppy, Stiles being drunk and aimlessly moving his hands up and down Derek's torso while the older man was simply rigid, still in shock that Stiles was actually kissing him. Driven by instinct, Derek's body quickly loosened through, his hands moving to Stiles' hips and clamping down.

The younger boy let out a soft moan but it was quickly replaced by a pained groan and without a moment's hesitation, Stiles had pushed away from Derek and scrambled out of the bed. The werewolf watched him practically sprint to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him and then proceeding to throw up for the next twenty minutes. Derek knocked gently at the door only to be scolded and told to "go back to bed." When Stiles finally did return, he solemnly slipped under the blankets before turning away from Derek and instantly falling asleep.

The night was spent with Derek staring at the ceiling, too flustered, too confused by what had happened to sleep. At some point though he must have passed out because the next thing he knew it was morning time and he was waking up, with Stiles nowhere to be found. Within minutes, Derek had scoured every inch of his apartment only to find any traces of Stiles completely gone. The spare tooth brush that was normally in the cup on his bathroom sink, the hoodie that Stiles constantly left draped over one of the kitchen chairs, the entire collection of classic slasher movies, and absolutely every single other thing Stiles had ever left there was just gone. The only thing remaining to remind Derek that the last year hadn't been some elaborate mind trick was the small piece of paper lying on the coffee table with that familiar scratchy handwriting one single word. 'Sorry.'

The weeks after Stiles twenty-first birthday were grueling on Derek, as he constantly read that one words over and over again, trying to decipher what Stiles had meant by it. On one hand Derek had lead himself to believe that Stiles was sorry he'd kissed him, unaware that Derek actually felt the same way, and was just embarrassed and possibly worried that he'd ruined their friendship. The brooding werewolf was never one to think on the bright side though and more often than not he told himself that the note was simply Stiles' rejection, even though the younger man had obviously kissed him first. In Derek's mind he was simply a drunken mistake to Stiles and somehow through one kiss the other man had felt how much he truly wanted him and had been scared off.

It was almost a month before the pale skinned man walked into the coffee shop after having walked back and forth outside the building for an hour. Had Derek not been blessed with werewolf senses, he probably wouldn't have noticed, but after an agonizing hour of not knowing whether the other man would actually come inside, he was relieved to hear the familiar bell ring, signaling that someone had opened the door. The werewolf wasn't sure that he'd ever seen his mate look so angry before in his life, eyes harsh and a scowl that would put even Derek to shame.

"You're unbelievable Derek!" Stiles practically shouted, stopping a few feet away from where Derek had been wiping down a table. The older man straightened up, a confused look plastered across his face as Stiles merely inched closer, poking a finger in Derek's face as he continued on.

"I've been waiting around a goddamn month for you to say something, anything! Ever since I met you you've blown hot and cold and I finally get up the nerve to put myself out there and you just, you just do nothing! I get it, okay? You're not into me but that doesn't mean that you're not still my best-" The words were cut off as Derek closed that small space between them, his hand grabbing the one that Stiles had pointed right at him and his lips smashing against the younger mans.

"You're in so much trouble," Stiles muttered, bringing his lips back for only a split second before pressing back into Derek, his arms easily wrapping around the older man's neck. The two were so wrapped up in each other that they failed to notice the small group of students in the corner, a study group of sorts, that stared them down, some with their mouths hanging open and some with wide eyes. They stayed that were for only a few moments before finally tearing their eyes away from the happy couple they knew nothing about and smiling and nodding amongst themselves.

From there on out, the two settled into an easy rhythm. Stiles moved out of his own apartment and into Derek's. Things weren't much different than before though. Stiles still acted like a hyperactive child that was chock full of sugar and Derek was still the dark and brooding werewolf. They still played video games on Derek's ratty couch and Stiles still came by the coffee shop when Derek was working if only to make stupid faces at him in an attempt to get the sourwolf to crack a smile. The only thing that was different was the fact that Derek now felt as though something inside of him was finally set right. At night when they were together in bed, Stiles pressed against Derek and the larger man's arms wrapped protectively around him, Derek could just feel this overwhelming warmth circulating through his body. When they went for walks in the evening and Stiles would tug on his hand, causing them to stop simply so he could pull the werewolf in for a kiss, Derek got this sensation that he could feel Stiles all the way down in his bones, like the boy was circulating through his veins. It was the feeling of absolute completion.

It wasn't until their first anniversary, the two of them sprawled out on a blanket in the middle of the park on the outskirts of the college town, that Stiles finally opened up to Derek about how long he had been harboring feelings for him.

"It was that first day I ran into the coffee shop and you gave me your jacket. I'd never really been bold when it came to dating before but I thought to myself 'what the hell, if he says no then chances are I'll never run into him again,' so I left my number and when you didn't call that night I figured that was it so I went on my merry way until you finally called me, a whole week later I might add. Thanks for making me wait. Anyways, as I was saying, I showed up at that movie fully prepared to be going on a date with some broody, super hot barista and yet you didn't make a move the entire time. There I was, all dressed to the nines trying to impress some guy and completely talking out of my ass, surprising I know, and I can barely even get you to crack a smile. So I tell myself that maybe you're the old fashion kind and have to properly court a guy before you make a move and so there I am, waiting and waiting and waiting for a whole freaking year. A whole year! At which point I finally get so fed up and anxious that just have to try because as you might have realized by now, Stiles Stilinski is all for making a fool of himself and I'll be damned if I don't hate you, Der. I hate you so much, I love you."

Maybe it wasn't the most eloquently worded expression of love in the world, but it was enough to make a smile break across Derek's face, which was saying a lot. His fingers intertwined easily with Stiles' as he placed a soft kiss against the ridiculous buzz cut the man insisted on keeping, letting out a soft, truly content sigh as he did so. It was so surreal for Derek to think back to the years when he had longingly watched from a far, no hope of ever being with the boy that he had been drawn to ever since he was a child, and part of him wondered if he'd simply plucked up the courage earlier if maybe he and Stiles would have been able to share many more years together, sharing so many more memories. His wolf had known the entire time and yet Derek had been a complete idiot all of those years.

"Want to hear about the time I almost died?" The question came out of nowhere on a lazy Sunday during Stiles' senior year. The two of them were sprawled out on the sofa, Stiles' head in Derek's lap and his long legs dangling over the arm of the couch.

"You almost slipped at the top of the jungle gym and I grabbed you before you fell," Derek responded absentmindedly with a shrug, too caught up in the newspaper he was reading to realize what he was saying until after the words had actually left his mouth. Stiles, however, bolted upright in an instant, mind already putting pieces together faster than he could actually comprehend all of the memories that were flooding him. The first day he ever met Derek at the coffee shop there had been something about him that was familiar to Stiles, although he'd never been able to put his finger on it and had eventually given up on trying to figure it out over the years. Now everything was making sense. The boy who had saved him and the boy who he'd seen disappearing into the forest during his mother's funeral was the same man he'd briefly noticed watching him intently when he graduated from high school and that same bulky, leather jacket clad figure who'd pulled him back from the road in Chicago. His whole entire life Derek had been around, had been following him around.

"You mean you've been following me?!" Stiles sputtered finally, his gaze a mixture of confusion and disbelief. Derek returned it with an equally as confused look, not seeing how Stiles could be freaking out over it. He hadn't been following Stiles, he had simply gone wherever the boy was, driven by the constant need to be close to his mate. Yet Stiles viewed it as stalking, saying that Derek had preyed on him and had practically hunted him for the past fifteen years as though he was some piece of meat that Derek was after. The term mate was completely lost to him, being caught up in such a blind rage that Derek had been lying to him all this time. No matter what Derek said, which granted wasn't much considering how awful the man was with words, nothing could deter Stiles from his rage that he'd been lied to and followed all of this years. In Stiles mind it was as though he'd never really been given a choice, like somehow by following him around Derek had magically made it so that no one else could ever have him, even if that wasn't the case at all.

The afternoon ended with Stiles storming out in a blind rage, leaving Derek still at a loss for what exactly it was that he had done wrong. Truth be told, they were both in the wrong. It had been terrible of Derek to only watch from the shadows all of those years, to follow Stiles around and not make his presence known, and yes, he was probably so much more to blame than Stiles but the younger man also had his flaws. He was blaming Derek for who he was, for the being that he'd been born as. Derek couldn't change the fact that he had been born supernatural, no more than he could change the fact that his inner wolf had chosen Stiles the first time he'd ever laid eyes on the boy. Yes Derek could have gone about it differently, taken better steps, but there was no changing who his mate was, no taking back the bond that a wolf valued for life.

Derek waited. He waited on the sofa the rest of the day, staring at the door as though the pale boy would walk through it at any minute and fling himself in Derek's arms and everything would be okay. He went to bed alone that night and left for work the next morning and still Stiles was not back. When he returned home that evening, everything that belonged to Stiles was gone, and it was then that Derek realized that perhaps he had royally screwed up. Yet still he waited. Derek waited for weeks, and those weeks turned into months, months of him biding his time and waiting for his bumbling idiot of a human to walk back through that door. As winter came to an end though, Derek was faced with a realization that his waiting was all in vain. Stiles wasn't coming back, he wasn't going to forgive Derek's actions and coming running back through that door in true romantic comedy fashion. It wasn't going to be like the first time when Stiles had come blasting through the coffee shop doors and screamed until Derek cut him off and they embraced. Back then Stiles had simply been confused, been uncertain of Derek's feelings but this time it was anger that filled the younger man, betrayal. There was nothing to be done to fix those feelings.

Faced with the fact that his mate was never coming back, Derek packed his things, loaded every single possession he had into his car and headed back to Beacon Hills. It wasn't home, home was wherever Stiles was, but at least he had a family there that would gladly welcome him back. Every mile he drove further away from Stiles, the gnawing at his heart grew more and more until Derek was forced to pull over on the side of the road. His car was filled with screams of agony, his fists beating against the steering wheel and every other surface he could reach until his knuckles were bloody and his mind sufficiently focused on something else. The pain was something, or at least a different kind of pain, even if it only lasted for a few brief moments before the healing process began. Derek stared at the quickly fading blood and for the life of him couldn't figure out where it was that he had gone wrong.

As soon as Derek was back on the road though, the pain hit him once more, and followed him the entire way back to the place where he had grown up, to the waiting memories of a childhood Derek had spent longing for that pale skinned boy. How was he supposed to drive past that elementary school and remember the days he had spent longing for a hyperactive boy to notice him, to stop and ask him if maybe he wanted to go ride bike or read comics after school? How was he supposed to walk back to the empty park where he had saved Stiles for the first time and then been too scared to stick around and see if his good deed would perhaps pay off in friendship? How was Derek meant to live with the constant pain beating in his chest, the kind that felt as though his heart was literally going to break through his ribcage?

Derek tried though, he really tried once he got home, to ignore the constant pain in his chest and to push back the thoughts of the years he had spent with Stiles. He worked toward channeling all of his efforts into other things, helping his family remodel their out-of-date manor, getting a job with a landscaping company in town, and spending his free time helping teach the younger pack members. Life was busy for Derek. More than busy actually, it was positively hectic, which he preferred. If he could keep himself busy from the time he woke up in the morning until the time he went to bed every night it was easier to ignore the pull, the desire to trek back to New York. Yet every night, without fail, once Derek's head hit that pillow images of Stiles would flood through his memory and he would spend the night in a fitful state, tossing and turning with memories burning across his vision. It was the nights that tortured Derek the most.

The Hale's kept telling Derek to push on and that with time things would get easier, that he would eventually be able to go even full days without feeling the pain, but Derek couldn't help but notice the sympathetic looks that were cast his way when his family thought he wasn't looking. It was as though Derek was some pathetic child that everyone took pity on even though he was a grown man that proved day after day just how strong he was, strong enough to push through the pain and to maintain a normal, if not slightly mundane life. He never broke down in front of any of them, never showed any sign of weakness and yet they all still worried, worried that he would never quite be right unless he somehow found his way back to his mate.

It was the end of August, a few months after what Derek predicted would have been Stiles graduation from Cornell, when he began to feel an odd sensation. The magnetism, the undeniable pull toward Stiles started to lessen. The feeling was small at first, only lessening slightly, but as the day went on it keep decreasing more and more. By dinner time the next night, he was nearly free of the pull, only experiencing it slightly in his fingertips rather than the whole body sensation he normally had. Derek was quick to bring up the change, to question the elders in his family, who were just as baffled as he was. Sure there were instances when a wolf lost a mate, whether that be to death or any other number of circumstances, and the pain would eventually subside, never completely but enough for comfort, but it wasn't the type of thing that happened over a day or two. The process took years, decades even for werewolves and no one could answer why things had happened so quickly for Derek.

Regardless of the logistics behind it, Derek took the newfound freedom from longing as a sign. Yes he still loved Stiles, and yes he still wanted him more than anything, but in Derek's mind the change was the universe's way of saying that it was time to move on, that Stiles was never going to come around or change his mind. To Derek it meant that it was time to stop waiting and wondering and wishing and to finally start living again.

The newfound outlook was what brought Derek to the local bar a few days later, heading through the doors with every intention of putting himself out there and meeting someone knew. He was well aware that Stiles would be his mate for life, that the wolf inside of him would always yearn for the other man, but Derek was also aware of the fact that he was allowed to move on and to find someone else when the person that he wanted so badly no longer wanted him back. Settling for someone else was a much better option that sitting around day after day torturing himself over someone that was never going to come.

What Derek didn't expect when he walked into the bar was the scent. Sure there was the overwhelming smell of alcohol and men with too much aftershave, the slight hint of sweat on a warm summer night and the odor of cheap bar food, but above all else there was a scent that hit Derek like a ton of bricks. His first instinct was to run out the door, to get as far away from it as he possibly could, to save himself from the hordes of memories that were already flooding his mind, but the draw was too intense, too overpowering. Derek pushed his way through the groups of people milling around, nursing their drinks and talking about things much too irrelevant to even begin to register with the man. The scent was top priority, filling up Derek's nose and blocking out everything else. It had been so long, so many months since Derek had smelled it so clearly. There had been the occasional times when he'd pulled out some random article of clothing or book from his apartment and it would be there, very faint but still present, and yet this was the first time since that fateful day in New York that Derek could smell it clear as day. It wasn't just the scent anymore either, he could hear that familiar heartbeat, the one he had shamelessly honed in on for years.

There he was, just standing there in the corner and nursing a half drunk beer, a sight that stopped Derek in his tracks. His hair had grown out a bit and he looked as though he'd lost a bit of weight, but there was still that familiar pale skin riddled with moles and that ridiculous red hoodie he insisted on wearing even during the summer. The look on his face said it all though, his golden eyes locked intently on Derek's and his head tipped to the side, as though he was practically screaming "what are you waiting for?" It was Stiles, standing there in the flesh right in front of him. Stiles, who must have driven all the way from New York in that battered Jeep of his and who must have been waiting the past few days for the offhand chance that he and Derek would run into each other in the small town.

The older man took in a sharp breath, not daring to blink for fear that if he did Stiles might suddenly disappear, like this was all some big elaborate prank his mind was playing on him. Yet Derek did eventually blink and, much to his surprise, Stiles was still standing there gazing at him expectantly. It was then that Derek finally let himself release the breath he'd been holding ever since stepping into the bar. The corners of his mouth began to curl upward into a satisfied smirk as the wolf finally let out the question that kept ringing over and over in his mind.

"Are you following me?"


End file.
